


Darkness to Dawn

by DarkAngelBK201



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Blood and Torture, Gen, Parental Roy Mustang, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelBK201/pseuds/DarkAngelBK201
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His thoughts swam beneath the agony, each pulse scattering any coherency that gathered in his head. Tangy blood gathered around his tongue, the tip throbbing in protest. "So, Edward? Will you join us?" - "Oh, God," Mustang whispered. "Don't let me fail again. Not for Ed, he's like my son." Parental!Roy/Ed. No pairings, just suggestions. Rating may go up. (Posted first on FF.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ed walked down the path, seemingly proud, confident, and full of energy, but the people who knew him best could see the barely perceptible slouch to his shoulders, the slight stumble to his step. His eyes, normally a bright and cheerful gold, were dulled and exhausted. Colonel Roy Mustang stood, waiting for the boy, at the entrance to the camp, immaculately dressed as always, though he emitted waves of the same exhaustion that the teen was feeling. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was positioned at his right shoulder, her hand never straying too far from the grey handgun holstered on her belt. At Ed's back, Havoc and Breda were arguing, their eyes strangely looking everywhere but at each other.

The younger alchemist sighed, making a pained effort to pull himself up straighter in front of his commanding officer. Placing his hands heavily onto his hips, he glared at Mustang, but not before doing a quick sweep over the man. The dark-haired man caught himself preforming the same act, his eyes narrowing suspiciously out of habit. Worry, however, churned in his gut at the boy's appearance. His trademark red cloak was torn and stained a darker shade of scarlet in several places, the black clothing under it not faring much better. The white gloves were missing, the metal of the automail flashing in the weak sunlight whenever his hand moved. Ed's visage was pale and bruised, splotches of black and purple splashing across the visible skin. “Fullmetal,” the Colonel greeted, forcing some false amusement into his voice. At the title, Edward scowled furiously, formerly deep and dark eyes igniting with annoyance.

“Bastard,” he replied, copying Mustang's tone. The older man resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation, internally glad at the semblance of normalcy. “It seems your day was better than mine as usual. Did you set yourself up with the cushy job on purpose because you're useless?” He sighed, unable to keep his lips from twitching.

“You know as well as I do, Fullmetal, that the higher ups assign orders to soldiers who would best suit the job. It's not my fault you excel at destruction.”

“Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you slack off just so you don't get assigned the tough jobs. Are they getting to be too much for you, old man?” The 'old man' was suddenly struck with an eye spasm, his mouth forming a warning scowl. But it was already too late. The first blow had been struck. “You really should start watching what you do. Your body can't handle missions like you used to, what with aging and all. So perhaps it's best if I take all the hard missions. Wouldn't want you to break something.”

“For your information, Fullmetal, the jobs I'm given require a certain amount of finesse, not like I'd expect someone of your stature to understand. You would be simply overlooked on one of these jobs.” The spectators winced internally at the throbbing vein in Ed's forehead. It would only escalate from here.

“WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT YOU'D NEED A MAGNIFYING GLASS TO SEE?!” came the enraged roar that everyone was waiting for. “I'd do your jobs a hundred times better than you ever would. And you know it. Who's the prodigy here?” An automail finger jabbed the older man in the chest, golden eyes glaring into dark orbs. Mustang opened his mouth to voice his opinion on the matter when someone cleared their throat.

“Excuse me, Edward, but the Colonel has somewhere to be. And you look like you could use a change of clothes,” Hawkeye interrupted politely, though her chestnut eyes were hard with warning. It was a look they all knew well, a look that promised pain via her gun if people didn't do exactly what she wanted. The members of the argument and viewers alike swallowed at the expression, eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Y-yes, ma'am,” Ed stammered, rushing off in the direction of his tent. Nobody would see him for a few hours after he entered the tent. He had a schedule. Once he got back from battle, he changed clothes, called his brother, and took a rather long nap. It was hard to blame the kid for he wasn't lying when he claimed that his missions were tough. This war with Creta was hard on him. Havoc and Breda saluted and ran off to the mess tent for some food. Mustang watched them leave, faint traces of a smile left on his face.

“You know, you could just always have a straight conversation with him rather than masking everything with an argument,” she murmured, her face impassive, though there was a tenderness to her eyes as she watched the teen's retreating back. The grin solidified some, Mustang's dark eyes shining with something similar to affection.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Lieutenant,” he responded, glancing towards her. The blond copied his practically patented imperceptible grin, sighing quietly.

“Of course not, sir.” Riza tracked Ed's movements until she vanished into his tent, expression softening further. “He's tired.”

“In more ways than one...” Mustang let his shoulders relax from his perfect military posture, turning sharply away from his position. “Well, come on, Lieutenant. You weren't lying for once about the meeting I have to attend.”

FMAFMA

Ed jerked, startled out of his dozing state, at a sudden knock on one of the structure poles of his tent. “Can I come in?” Mustang asked, his silhouette shadowing the entrance flap. Slightly confused, Ed sat up, rubbing his face to chase away any signs of fatigue.

“Do what you want, bastard,” he answered, hoping he didn't look too terrible. The flap opened to admit Roy Mustang, who was clearly off duty with his coat slung over his shoulder. The man scanned his surroundings before claiming custody of a nearby chair, plopping into it gratefully. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mustang?” And then those dark eyes were on him, flicking up and down his form to analyze his condition. Finally, he sighed, sitting back, though gaze never left the teen, lingering on a dark bruise on his temple.

“Just got out of that damned meeting. Apparently the enemy's preparing a surprise attack for us come morning.” An apologetic expression danced across his face, regret lacing the edges. Ed read the hidden meaning, bolting into a standing position in anger.

“WHAT?! But tomorrow was supposed to be my resting day! I've been going non-stop for days, Mustang, and you know it! You can't just throw me back in there when I'm working on practically no sleep!” At each sentence full of acidic fury and frustration, the dark-haired man wanted nothing more than to sink further into his chair and disappear. It was wrong, dammit! But orders were orders.

“There's nothing I can do about it, Fullmetal. The orders came directly from the top.” The look of betrayal on Ed's face struck directly at his heart and he sighed, looking the boy in the eyes. “It's the price you paid for being a dog of the military. It's time for us to sit down and bark for our masters.” The anger slowly leeched away from Ed's golden eyes, a saddened acceptance taking its place. He sat back down, huffing in annoyance.

“Yea... Not the first time I've paid a price for doing something stupid,” he remarked with a rueful grin. “So why're you really here? You could have told me my orders tomorrow morning.” Mustang resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The kid was too smart for his own good sometimes.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye asked me to check up on you. She said you hadn't called your brother today.” The blond's eyes deepened once more and he averted his gaze to the floor.

“I told Al yesterday that I wouldn't call him today. I told him I had a day to myself and I'd call him then. Looks like I'm going to have to go back on that promise...” Silence fell over them like a heavy blanket, each unsure of what to say. Finally, Mustang stood, clapping a hand on Ed's shoulder.

“Well, you look alright to me. I'll inform the Lieutenant and get some rest for myself. Tomorrow already sounds like a tiring day. Fullmetal.” He nodded at his subordinate and excused himself, leaving the boy completely confounded at his words.

“Did he just...apologize?” he asked himself, raising an eyebrow at the flap he called a door.

FMAFMA

Roy sat at his desk, staring at the roster in front of him. He had to split up his team. He couldn't accompany Ed into battle like he'd like to, so the least he could do is send some of his most trusted men with the younger alchemist. The question was, who? Havoc and Breda worked well together as a team, but could they cover Ed when he needed it? And Falman was smart and pretty handy with a gun, but his battle skills were somewhat lacking. Feury was a genius with technology, but in a battlefield, his only use was as a telephone operator.

And Hawkeye. Roy knew for a fact that he could trust her with just about anything, including his own life. But why was it so hard to even think about letting her go with Ed?

This was a lot tougher than any of the previous battle assignment he'd had to complete. Sighing, he placed his pen down on the hardwood, replacing it with his head. He needed to relax; it was just a dream, a graphic dream, but a dream nonetheless.

_A hand reached out to him, dripping with blood. He couldn't move, frozen at the image in front of him. The sounds of battle echoed around, bouncing off the alchemy-created walls. No... NO! Small puddles were forming beneath the trembling appendage, tiny scarlet pools in the dirt._

“ _Why... Why didn't you help me...?”_

Mustang jerked upright, once again in his tent. His dark eyes were wide, something eating away at his insides. He just couldn't shake this feeling of dread that had taken residence in his stomach, filling it to the brim. It's why this decision had suddenly become so hard; to make one mistake would make the dream become a reality. He couldn't let that happen.

So if he were to put Falman and Havoc together, Havoc would be able to cover for Falman's weaknesses and-

_An eye bore into his own, the other complete shrouded in thick scarlet liquid as it slid in a continuous river down the young face. Perhaps it wasn't even there any more. “Please Colonel... Help me...”_

That grouping was a no. What about if he put Falman and Feury with Breda...? Surely with both Falman and Breda paired nothing ba-

_Golden hair was dyed red, matted with the blood that dripped idly from the back of his skull. One arm was completely missing, metal fragments sticking out from a mangled port on his shoulder. Liquid rust lined each crevice, slipping down onto his already drenched chest._

What had he been even thinking with that? Alright, Havoc, Feury, and Breda. He'd already said that Havoc and Breda were a good team, adding Feury would put a telephone-

_A mechanical leg was torn up almost beyond recognition, dangling uselessly from yet another port. What looked like one of the toes was jammed into the calf of the flesh leg, blood spilling out in surprising amounts from around the edges of the false appendage. Stark white bone stuck through the thigh, the edge pointed. A hunk of flesh was impaled on the edge, torn directly from the thigh where it used to be. It still was soaked in scarlet, slipping in individual streams down the bone._

Also a no... Dammit, why was this so hard? Groaning, he massaged his temples to try and ease the ache that was forming as a result of this problem. His pale face was forming stress marks along his forehead, bruise-like bags hanging under his eyes. Black hair was unkempt from the amount of times his hands had combed through it in frustration. How about Falman and Feury-

_The torso was torn up, ripped from several blades tearing through the soft flesh. Burns trailed up the boy's side, blisters dripping clear pus onto the dark red ground. A pole was embedded in the boy's stomach, pining him to the ground below. Tearing along the edges of the wound showed that he'd already tried to get free. A small hole tore through the black shirt on his right breast, blood flowering out from the bullet's entrance point._

No. No. Absolutely fucking not. That was dumb to even consider. If he put Havoc and Hawkeye together, no harm would come to the boy he was trying to protect. He knew that for certain. But he couldn't put Hawkeye's name down for the assignment, his pen halting before he could even press it into the paper. She'd been at his side since he joined the military, watching his back when he couldn't. Mustang was unsure he even knew how to watch his own back anymore, which worried him to no end. Without her by his side when he went into battle, he would feel naked, exposed. He needed her. So that left one option...

FMAFMA

“Alright!” Mustang said, watching the members of his group, with one noticeable exception, stand at attention. Ed stood off to the side; the bags beneath his eyes had only worsened since the night before. But he still exhibited an air of confidence that was only halfway forced. Roy knew he looked just as bad, his hair still slightly messy despite the efforts he had taken this morning to calm it and his face just as drawn and tired. “Havoc, Breda, and Falman. You're with Ed today.” The men in question straightened further and jerked a hand to their brows, a sharp “sir!” leaving their throats. The dark-haired man nearly smirked. “Hawkeye, Fuery. You're with me.”

He scanned the small group, his gaze resting on the teen for a moment, catching his raised eyebrow. “At ease,” the colonel caught himself saying. “You will meet us at the entrance in exactly one hour.” Another salute and they all left, with the exception of Hawkeye, who discreetly hung around to keep an eye on her superior.

“Something wrong, bastard?” Ed asked, smirking at the man. Mustang raised his own eyebrow in question.

“No, why would something be wrong?” _Blood, so much blood. How could one person produce this much?_  

“You never call me Ed.” At that, he stared, realizing his mistake. Shit, he must have tipped off his entire group that something was wrong.

“Well that is your name... Would you rather me refer to you as shorty?” The short joke didn't have its intended effect, the boy as impassive as before. _The familiar smell of burning flesh reached his nose, mingling with the metallic scent of blood that stained his gloves. Shit he couldn't get a spark going with them like this. He couldn't protect him._ Mustang had to leave, before he lost his lunch in front of Ed. The kid beat him to it.

“I'm gonna go call Al before I leave. Y'know. Let him know what's going on. I'll see you in an hour.” He turned, the black serpent's cross staring at him from the back of the once again flawless coat.

“Ed.” The boy paused, cluing him in that he was listening. “Be careful out there.” The blond snorted, smirking at the colonel.

“I think you should worry about yourself, old man.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Ed strolled into the battle, appearing uncaring for the carnage around him. It was the same scene that he'd been seeing for the past few weeks; he was growing accustomed to it. The trio of soldiers Mustang had assigned him walked behind by a few paces, murmuring amongst themselves. He paused, analyzing the battle with sharp eyes, and sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “Some surprise attack this is... It looks as if we've been waiting here for days for this to get started,” he commented smartly, scowling at the gunfire that peppered the soft ground nearby. 

“Major Elric!” someone called, bringing his gaze over to a battle-weary soldier. The young man had a gun slung over his shoulder, waving furiously to catch the teen's attention. Rolling his eyes, he moved over to the soldier, carefully placing a look of exasperation on his face so no one could tell how affected he was by the battle. He would never get used to war, of that he was absolutely certain. 

“What's the situation?” he asked, crossing his arms. The man looked pale, as if injured, or perhaps scared shitless. Knowing the way this war was going, probably the latter.

“Sir, there's a mechanized...thing... destroying our troops in the northwest corner of this area. We can't even get a man in there to touch it.” Ed nodded sharply, turning towards the direction indicated.

“Then that's where I'm need most. Thanks, Sergeant.” And with that said he sprinted off, leaving three confused soldiers in his wake. After a quick glance at one another, they followed, nearly tripping over themselves to catch up. 

“HEY BOSS!” Havoc yelled at the top of his lungs, accidentally dropping his cigarette into the dirt, much to his chagrin. “WAIT FOR US!” Ed just grinned, glancing behind him at his group. 

“Catch up with me there. Promise to leave some for you!” Havoc and Breda, having been with the kid before, rolled their eyes, pouring on the speed. Falman looked a little shocked, his pallor paling. 

“Are you sure we should just let him go on alone?” he asked, eyebrows drawn together in worry. To that, the blond laughed. 

“Nah,” Havoc responded, smirking. “Believe us when we say he'll be just fine. We just need to worry that he won't leave any for us.” 

Ed heard them bicker but ignored them, focused on the slowly growing machine in the distance. That was his target and he had a feeling that it was bad news. However, it was only until he ran straight in the path of a rather large missile that was more than likely alchemically produced, that the alchemist understood the gravity of the situation. “Oh shit,” he cursed under his breath, diving out of the way before any debris could hit him. 

The creature stood nearby, its metal frame plated with flaking and rusting aluminum casing. A rather thick hand swung around, knocking several soldiers that were trying to break through to it several feet away. In its mouth, a missile launcher replaced what would have been a tongue had the thing been even close to resembling a human. The eyes glowed red, much like another person that Ed knew very very well. Alchemy was buzzing all around, causing the boy to twitch. Just like he'd thought, bad news. 

Blood tainted the quality of the air, polluting it with its thick metallic scent. Soldiers lay wounded every which way, creating a cacophony of terrible sounds. One whimpered next to his feet, a rather large piece of shrapnel lodged in his gut. Coppery liquid pooled around the point of entry, spilling to the already soaked ground. Another had no head and half a body, blood sluggishly draining from the remaining parts. Chunks of someone's small intestines were scattered around the area. Ed swallowed harshly against the bile that raced up his throat and looked away, focusing instead to the cause of all these problems. 

“Cover me guys,” he ordered at his back, knowing instinctively that his soldiers were there, and ran off again, clapping to transmute his automail blade. Bullets sprayed from behind him as he approached the enemy line, effectively cutting a safe path through the soldiers. Without even pausing to show his gratitude, he continued on through. Clapping again, he transmuted the ground beneath him to a set of stairs that led straight to the head of the mechanical beast, the dirt dipping at his feet.

Here, the feel of active alchemy was stronger, making Ed's skin crawl. An arm crashed into his created stairs, the resulting shock wave throwing the teen off balance. Only a quick transmutation saved him from certain death. Shit, that was too close. He needed to pay closer attention to the machine's movements; another slip up like that could destroy him. And there was no way in hell he was going to die before the bastard Colonel. 

As he ran, golden eyes scanned the creature. It was running off alchemic power; he needed to find either the alchemist or the transmutation circle, either of which had to be nearby. Suddenly, it turned on him, the cannon in its mouth glowing with power. Eyes widening, he erected a wall in front of him as the missile crashed directly into it, a shudder running from it into his body, which he had tightly pressed to the structure. He sagged to the ground, gasping for air. His gaze remained glued to the floor as another explosion rocked the wall. He'd found the circle alright, not that it was a good thing. Smiling grimly, he deconstructed the wall, staring into the eyes of the machine. Oh, this would be fun. 

Ed launched himself at the beast, grasping onto the nearest handhold, its chest plate. Great. Tightening his grip, he hauled himself up and latched onto the next hold, wincing as the metal cut into the skin of his flesh hand. Cries of ceasefire echoed up to him as he climbed, but that didn't stop a stray bullet from grazing his side. That was going to hurt like hell later, but he didn't have the time to think about that right now. He kept moving, avoiding both gunfire and the flailing arms of the creature he was climbing. Oh yea, soreness was inevitable once he got back to camp. “I'm going to fucking murder the bastard,” he grumbled, occupying himself with the pleasant thoughts of how he would torture his superior at a later date. 

Finally, he reached the opening of the mouth and, hauling himself into it, rubbed his now bleeding hand. Mustang would pay. Today was supposed to be his damn day off and here he was, bleeding all over the mouth of a fucking machine in search of a transmutation circle that would shut the entire damned thing down. Oh, yea, the circle. Without even a second thought, he clapped and pressed his hands to the missile launcher, watching with glee as the thing melted away. Then, in one fluid movement, he thrust his blade into the heart of the circle, twisting it around for effect. The effect was immediate, the machine shuddering to a stop. Ed could almost feel the alchemy leech from the air, relieving him to no end, but also worried him. It couldn't be this easy. It never was this easy. 

And, of course, the mechanical beast chose that moment to shake itself to pieces now that it no longer had anything holding it together. Growling something inaudible under his breath, he quickly transmuted the available materials into a makeshift platform and gently eased it to the ground next to the rubble. As the blond stood, dusting off his clothes, he came to the sudden realization that he was in danger. “Freeze, Alchemist!” a voice yelled, the accent distinctly Cretan. He quickly glanced around, noticing the guns pointed at him. Well, fuck... It was one thing after another with these guys wasn't it? Discreetly placing his palms together, he held his hands up, a smirk tracing across his features. 

“And what is it you guys want exactly?” he questioned, molding the molecules in the air. He'd learned this trick from Mustang, but never really had a chance to use it before. The man who had spoken was trembling like a leaf, skin red and flaking from being in the hot summer sun for far too long. The soldiers behind him seemed to have more nerve, a hard glint in each of their eyes, a killer's glint. 

“Just come quietly Alchemist. We have you surrounded.” Ed rolled his eyes and, deeming the transmutation complete, clacked the fingers of his automail hand together, creating a spark. The air around them exploded, the blond himself not quite excluded from the blast. He dove backwards, the skin on his right side boiling from the heat. Hissing, he pressed his blessedly cool left hand to the injury and surveyed the carnage around him. Most of the soldiers in front of him had scattered, making it easier for him to pick them off as he saw fit. Huh. That meant he was going to have to thank the bastard upon his return. 

“Boss, you alright?” Havoc called, appearing at the boy's side. About time they showed up. 

“Just fan-fucking-tastic,” he responded in a low growl, straightening with a wince. Damn burn. 

“We saw the blast,” Breda said, walking up to his other side, scanning the area with a critical eye. “Damnnn. I gotta learn alchemy one of these days.” 

“Was that the Colonel's technique?” Falman asked, kneeling next to a burned corpse. Ed nodded, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yea. Improvised a bit though. It's not too hard to copy his technique when you've seen it a few hundred thousand times.” The man just nodded, smiling a bit, and continued his inspection of the now dead soldier. Havoc crouched down so his face was level with the alchemist's injured side, gently peeling away the hand pressed against it. 

“Hard enough to learn though. It seems you burned yourself pretty good. And you're bleeding?” The blond subconsciously rubbed the injured appendage, scowling. 

“How about you try and scale a huge mechanical monstrosity with just your bare hands and see you come away unscathed?” Havoc rolled his eyes and continued to investigate the extent of the burn, fingers none too gently prodding at the abused flesh. Ed distracted himself by watching Falman do checks of each body that hadn't been too badly burned. Only he caught the movement of one of the soldiers, a subtle tightening of a hand around a weapon. “Falman, look o-” The man looked up at his cry and a hand shot out, catching him in the thigh with some sort of device. He tensed in shock, convulsed for a moment, and passed straight out, eyes rolling back into his head and slumping backwards in a dead faint. “FALMAN!”

The attacker heaved himself into a sitting position with a wince, staring in awe at the weapon in his hand. “Damn,” he whistled, clearly impressed. “The new weapons the Brigadier General gave us have quite a bite to them.” He looked around, scanning his teammates. “Hey, you guys alright?” Much to the shock of the Amestrians watching, other members of the enemy started to stir, fingering strange devices of their own. Ed straightened from his slightly hunched over position, his still freely bleeding hand clamping over his burned side. He knew that had been too easy.

“Ed,” Havoc whispered in his ear, strangely focused. “What’s going on?”

“Trap,” he breathed, shifting slightly onto his automail foot with a slight hiss in pain. Shit, that was right. He had a bullet graze on his other side, which was bleeding pretty heavily at this point. “We need to charge. On my count.” The older man’s hand rested on his gun, his gaze never leaving the men in front of them. Breda moved quietly, tensing as if ready for battle. “Three.” Havoc flicked the safety off on his gun, finger curling around the trigger. “Two.” Ed shifted his automail foot back, ready to pounce. “One.” And they ran into the mess of people, all of which were getting up, and, for the most part, prepared for battle.

Thankful for the blade he hadn’t deconstructed yet, he blocked a soldier’s rifle as it swung towards his head and sliced off the nose of the gun. In one fluid movement, he bounced back and shoved one metal foot in the man’s face, effectively knocking him out. Hearing a click behind him, he glanced back, golden eyes wide at the gun barrel aimed directly at his head. The blond leaned away as the man fired, the bullet whizzing by his face, burning the skin of his cheek. “Shit!” he yelped, clamping a hand over the injury.

“Ey! Careful there Sergeant! We need him alive, not dead,” another called from behind him. Twirling around, he found himself surrounded, enemy soldiers pressing in on all sides. Fuck, not good. His vision was starting to blur, blood loss making his head spin. If this lasted any longer, he wouldn’t be able to transmute anymore. A tall man grabbed him from behind, circling his arms around the boy’s shoulders. Jerking his head back, he rammed the perpetrator in the nose, causing him to let go. Another made a go at him from the front; he was easily disposed of as he slid down to knock the man’s feet from under him. Dirt crusted into his cut side, pain making him woozy. Dammit, he needed to finish this quick.

“Breda!” he vaguely recognized Havoc’s voice as it called out to their partner. A gunshot rang out and Ed saw in terrifying slowness as it entered the man’s thigh, near his knee. Blood spurted out from the wound, the man attached collapsing to clutch the injured flesh. In the next moment, one of the strange weapons collided with Breda’s neck, causing the man to fade out just like Falman had not even ten minutes earlier. Ed staggered to his feet, trying to rush over to the man. Cretan soldiers blocked him in every way, bullets flying over his head as more creative weaponry, such as a hunk of metal from the machine, made attempts at his other limbs. The man who had grabbed him before caught him again, tackling the boy to the ground. The alchemist bucked, making attempts to force the man off of him, but he couldn’t budge. His attacker had a heavy kneed lodged in his back and his hands pinned at his sides. He snarled and swore, his entire body flailing in an attempt to get free. 

With a sharp bang, the hold on his arms loosened and something heavier collapsed on top of him, a hot and wet substance seeping into his hair. A hand closed in on his arm and helped him squirm out from under the enormous load. Jean Havoc's gun was smoking, his eyes hard and worried. “You alright?” he asked quietly, sapphire eyes quickly scanning over his form. 

“'m fine,” Ed grumbled, keeping his eyes specifically away from the body of his assaulter. In all honesty, he was weak and trembling and grime coated him from head to toe. But getting out of here was their first priority. “We need to get Falman and Breda and get the hell out of here.” The statement was murmured under his breath and the older soldier had to lean in to hear it.

“No. Out of the question. We're gonna get you out of here and then I'll call a back-up team in to get Falman and Breda. I was ordered by the Colonel to protect you and honestly, I'm more scared of him than I am of you. Sorry boss.” Those liquid golden eyes hardened into a dark bronze, the glare fierce. Those eyes promised trouble and pain, lots of pain. “Honestly, Ed. Your glares mean nothing when I'm facing a court martial if I disobey the almighty Colonel. I once saw him commit a man for looking at Hawkeye the wrong way.” Ed's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, a deep scowl cutting across his pale face. 

“I don't care what the bastard wants you to do. I can't leave a man behind. So you can leave with me or without me. I don't care in the slightest.” Suddenly, the teen's eyes widened sharply and he yanked Havoc aside just as a bullet tore through the area where the man's head had been. Dropping the man the moment the danger passed, his hand clamped over the graze from earlier, fresh blood oozing through his fingers. Swift hands pulled his off the injury and a string of curses permeated the air. 

“Dammit, Ed. Say something the next time I ask if you're ok.” Ed rolled his eyes, keeping sharp attention to the gathering group around him. 

“It's just a graze, Havoc. Leave it be. Now's not the time.” Sighing in exasperation, the soldier frowned and stood, cocking his gun in preparation for battle. 

“Give us the alchemist and no one else gets hurt,” one of the Cretan men ordered, his brown eyes narrowed over the barrel of his shotgun. “We'll even let the other two go.” With that addition, the man, a captain by the looks of it, smirked at the pair, his gaze solely on Ed. The alchemist gave his partner a sidelong glance, his eyes darkening considerably over the arrangement. 

“Don't even think about it,” Havoc hissed at the boy, taking aim at one of the enemy. The look Ed threw him could be considered a cocky smirk, but it was gone to fast for him to analyze it. 

“Just watch and learn.” Slapping his hands together, the blond slammed them into the ground, watching the ground buck and heave at his will. Several members of the group surrounding them fell to the ground, off balance, others were captured in giant stone fists. But as quick as it started, it ended, and Ed was gasping for air, his limbs trembling beneath him. “Maybe I went overboard,” the smoker thought he heard the boy say faintly. 

Ed willed himself to his feet, painting his smirk across his face. He was exhausted, but that didn't mean he was going to let it show. His vision flickering, he charged into the group, brandishing the blade on his right arm. He heard Havoc's gunshots somewhere nearby and soldiers fell, their blood arching into the air. His blade cut through into flesh, the sensation sending chills up his spine. A familiar shout arose from the crowd of people. “Freeze, alchemist!” For once, he did as was told, turning in the direction of the voice. The speaker emerged from the crowd, a struggling Havoc in his grasp. He had an arm tightened around the soldier's throat, a gun pressing into his scalp. 

“Come quietly and I won't have to pull this trigger,” he taunted, his finger curling around the piece of metal that would end the lieutenant's life. Ed frowned, paling even further at the situation. His eyes glanced around, first to Falman, sprawled out on the dirt, then to Breda, bleeding and unconscious, and lastly to Havoc, trying to spit out curses over the arm tight around his trachea. His breaths quickened; there really was no other choice. 

“Will you leave the others alone as well?” he finally asked, swallowing. The Cretan smiled, the expression cruel and disgusting. 

“Yes. Just turn yourself over to us.” Giving one last look around, as if to try and find a final way out, Ed sighed, deconstructing his automail blade. 

“Fine. Just let Havoc go.” And let him go he did. The gun collided harshly with the back of the blond soldier's head, the dull thud sounding a bit louder to the victim's ears than to everyone else. He went down like a sack of potatoes, all motor control lost to him. His vision went grey and fizzled in and out like a crappy car stereo. But he was treated to the sight of three men grabbing Edward, yanking his arms behind his back as another pulled out one of those devices. It slammed down on the young alchemist's collarbone and he went limp,his mouth open in a soundless cry. The other two supported him, their hands hooked under his arms. And that's when his eyes failed him and he knew no more. The Colonel was going to kill him, skip the court martial and shish kabob him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I said I was going to update on Fridays.... I think I lied a bit. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoyed and I'll try to upload the rest of the story a bit more consistently from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm testing out this website using this fic. I'll be posting the fic chapter by chapter once a week. If you want the full version before I finish it here, please look it up on FF.net. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!


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